" "I understand," replied Thames; "be it as you will. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. The dismal tolling of St. ‘I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes. “Still, of course, it is possible. " "I might have been able to do that if you hadn't told me … she cared. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece.
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